Purpose
by Silver Blazen
Summary: Natasha always ran from the ghosts of her past; always felt the pain and never love. When she finally sees the truth and decides not to chase after the beast, she finds herself standing at the Captain's side. (Avengers: Age of Ultron) Romangers.


**Purpose**

**All characters belong to Marvel Comics**

**I do not own anything**

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Natasha felt the dull surge of pain ignite in her body when she trudged through the debris surrounding a vacant building. Her fingers were scraped and marked with dried blood as she fought to keep balance in those few moments; scolding tears coated her green eyes. The distant sounds of sirens and mournful screams became an eerie chorus that would remain emblazon in her mind.

It was No Man's Land, and the remnants of the last defense against Ultron. The real damage welled in the fathoms of each of their souls.

The Avengers won the battle and yet the war still raged on in their hearts. They became lost in the scattered winds, each of them carrying out a new mission without the security and trust in the bond they had forged four years ago as defenders and protectors of the earth. All the sacrifices they had made as a team—a family—were distant memories and Natasha felt directionless and betrayed by her heart.

She took a deep breath, trying to release the inner distresses while searching for any glimpse of survival in the encroaching shadows threatening to consume her. There was nothing. Just ruins and remnants of the harrowing battle. She felt trapped in a delusion, the crimson haze of the Scarlet Witch's hypnosis mind spell still pulsed in her vision and the damning heartache of losing him never ceased to remind her that beyond all the pain and altered strong holds of her guarded past, humanity still existed.

She disarmed every last ounce of her humanity to tame the beast and get him to trust her, but in the end he left, and never came back to bring her on his mission.

A part of her thawed out heart wanted to chase after him, but he cleared his tracks and she was scarred with another memory of hope...She had lost her purpose—the Black Widow—the melee combatant and the spy no longer existed. All that remained was a hollow shell of a wondering through the ashes of a distant past.

Natasha felt utterly betrayed, lost and detached. Although her stubborn and fierce nature would never admit it, she was uncertain if she could carry on the fight.

For a second, Natasha lowered her head, allowing the humid breeze to brush against her fiery curls, and she wanted to search for her resolve in the shards of glass that cracked under her boots.

"What happens now?" she whispered, her voice dangerously low and overwhelmed with sorrow. It felt like she was drowning in pools of red again, and the raging storms were threatening to swallow her. Sensing the vulnerability prick in her veins, Natasha almost lost her balance, but she never crashed to the ground. Something was holding her—solid and fire. An anchor—Steve.

Steve.

"Breathe," Natasha listened to the straining ache of his voice giving the command. He allowed her distance. A chance feel the gentle breeze of a fading day caress over her exposed skin. She angled herself closer while he stood, pieces of glass crunched under her boots and gears of metal reflected in her eyes.

When she turned back, daring herself another look at the empty road, he flexed his fingers over her shoulder at precisely the same second when a tear managed to escape from her eye and she felt the urge to run. She had nowhere to go. No leads to follow. She was standing on the razor's edge between choice and impulse.

They were so close—the soldier and the spy—inadvertently and connecting with each other; that their wounded hearts almost danced to the same beat.

"Nat, I knew you felt something with Banner," Steve murmured. His voice, soothing and gentle. A lapping wave of peace against her heart. There were torrents of emotions roiling inside of him. The acid taste of betrayal. Anguish. Frustration. He was fighting a war both with himself and his failures. Bucky. The phantom with the metallic arm emerged from the ice encased recesses of his mind, haunted him, violent and emotionless and distant. It wasn't rational, he accepted those fragments of guilt as cold reminders of his choices.

It was painful, but he used his strength to push him deeper and feel that promise searing into him. He was going to save Bucky. His friend's existence was the next mission.

Sighing, Steve narrowed his azure eyes and stared passively at the broken pavement underneath him. The world was falling apart. It was always easy to pretend that he was strong under the uniform. Easy to keep his emotions in check when facing a dire time, risking everything to protect lives. A shield. Wits and his instincts were his devices he used when good and evil clashed. He had a weakness… He loved humanity and the world he had awoken up to four years ago...He had a family, but it wasn't stable.

There were loose hinges that threatened to break off and send the structures of the Avengers crashing down. New players were coming together and Bucky Barnes was going to be standing next to him-on his left.

"You must respect his choice, Nat," he said quietly, inhaling deeply as his words fell into a brush of despondence. Natasha froze. Steve did too. There was a new spark igniting between them. Barely a sense of commitment. Promise. Despite the urge to hold her, he receded a step. She lowered her eyes. He couldn't tell her how to live each day and fight for her freedom. She was strong, dangerous and stubborn. Time dwindled, leaving only tension. The ground was trembling beneath their feet as encroaching dreary gray thunderheads hovered over them.

Feeling a flush of heat rake over his skin was uncomfortable, enthralling fire. Love. He had been in love with her since the first time they crossed shadows on the helicarrier flight deck. He remembered staring at the vibrant red curls and her powerful body dressed in leather. She was stunning, lethal and unpredictable.

At first, Steve had believed that Natasha belonged to Clint, but after a few missions together, and sharing past experiences he discovered that the archer was her good friend.

Then came the mellow and tormented Doctor Banner, her kindred spirit and hope for a new life without the ghosts of the past. Their powerful bond diminished, thrown back into a distant tempest-miles away. "You can't blame yourself for letting him run."

It took more pain and effort for her to understand. The romance was dead, and gone. She had used Banner as an escape—a life line to grapple onto during the storm—and what seemed like platonic warmth between her and Steve, was growing into a feverish heat of need and desperation.

"Was it love, Rogers?" she asked simply, holding a demeaning tone in her voice. A stoic mask etched over her pallid and bruised features. She was serious. Steve didn't know how to respond. He'd never understood a woman's heart, but with her, he would always listen.

Taking a breath, Steve narrowed his blue eyes dismally, staring at her hand. "I can't answer that, Nat," It took a lot of energy, and the thralls of pain grew constant in his locking chest. His heart was throbbing with a familiar ache of regret.

"I'm not very good with the whole love thing. I've seen it damaged too many times." He glared down at her, searching for a resolve in her teal eyes, Natasha actually became off-balance. "I knew you had feelings for Banner." He could hardly restrain the truth from her. "You felt those feelings and you convinced yourself it was a second chance...A way out of the fray, or an anchor that would save you from drowning."

His hand absently moved out his belt, pulling over the silver tarnished compass Peggy had given to him in another life. He traced his thumb over the engraving, pressing his lips into a faint grimace. He stared at the small relic of his past for a long and painful moment, recollecting. "I loved Peggy and a part of me will always want that one dance with her..."

His eyes fell shut for a moment, feeling utterly detached and guarded as Peggy's brown eyes and red lips gradually faded away. His voice trailed into a low and unsteady breath, trying to carry an infinitive meaning. "You can believe in true of false emotions...but your heart will always chase after the real thing, Natasha."

"That's the problem with me, Steve. Nothing is real with me." she declared bitterly, her eyes gleaming with resentment. "Nothing..."

He blinked slowly. His eyes focused on the fullness of her rose shaded lips. A natural color, untouched by the mask of seduction. "You're real," he said. "Don't keep yourself tangled up in those lies anymore." He stared intensely at her; though his heart was twisting, breathing, trying to muster up the right words. "Natasha, you need to understand that you're free..."

"I'm free?" she repeated, swallowing, her eyebrows furrowing. Her first impulse was to run and find a new cover—a new mask to hide behind. She crossed her arms and turned away from him in a reserved stance.

The harsh monochrome lights haloing over the operating table blotted out countless images of medical tools and vials filled with chemical inducing serums—the horrors of the Red Room that no longer held an indomitable bondage in her mind. "Who do you want me to be, Steve?"

"It's up to you to make that choice, Nat," Steve returned, with a ghost of a smile on his lips spreading across his chiseled features. His blue eyes were sincere. "Whatever you decide, I'll be there to make sure you never fall again."

She pressed her lips together, her breath scraping against her lungs. "What is love, Steve?" she asked, curious, direct and very lost. "...and I want the honest truth."

"Nat-" Steve managed a whisper and clasped his gloved fingers over her shoulder, squeezing with reassurance. He looked deeply into her soft obscured green eyes, searching for a moment. Unhurried, he traced his thumb over the softness of her cheek and the visible freckles in the light. She stared up at him, immobilized in a powerful gaze as flashes of lightning spread across the darkening sky. She couldn't look away, no matter how much she tried.

She couldn't escape from his blue smoldering embers that held unyielding, tangible and searing blaze. It was both a tentative and harsh moment between them. She came an inch closer, letting him feel the warm thrum of her shallow breaths against the underside of his jaw. His mussed blonde hair brushed against her forehead as he dipped his head down and singed a slow trail of burning fire along her skin.

All the doubt, hesitation and fear bled away before she was able to grasp at darkness again. Breathing against the slow coil of heat, she locked herself against him and encircled her arm methodically over his hard abdomen. Stable. She felt stable with him. Nothing distracted her as she emboldened the hope of a new life. At the same time, she felt a twist of relief.

They were alone in the center of the desolated street as the ashes of chaos finally settled onto the broken ground. Left overs of Utron's robotic sentries were scrap heaps of contorted alloy husks and dislocated limbs. Everything was in ruin. Vehicles were turned up against building walls and shards of glass were scattered everywhere.

She didn't want to look back at the battle zone, or feel herself nearing the pending brink of abandonment. Emotional detachment. A strange rush of desperation racked her, desperate to rediscover the truth which had always been alive through undying devotion.

It was maddening to feel so distraught and sickened by Banner's choice to leave her; Natasha had to release those feelings. She had to choose the ultimatum: she was either going to stay with Rogers or run away.

A spasm entered her chest and tears finally came, despite the tampering guilt and the penetrating heartache. She had to become strong, fearless and steady.

She had to stop believing that she was a monster. Permanently. Steve Rogers—Captain America. The compassionate leader of the Avengers had accepted her for who she was, and she had never realized what had was building between them until their gazes met, and she stared into a brilliant clear blue. The colors that followed a new dawn. She never realized how much she wanted to be loved and to feel whole again.

"I can't give you that honest truth, not with words anyway," his lips slanted into a genuine warm smile. Those words barely registered, almost reverential. He truly cared for her unconditionally. He loved her. There was still reluctance.

It wasn't simple, not when his heart still longed to share a life with Peggy, which constantly made him feel a churning in his stomach. That sudden promise clamped against his chest with sentimental knells of regret when he wanted to flee from the past. He had neglected those feelings; casting them aside and grieved those shattered dreams. His love...His Peggy Carter was fading with time, and he could no longer chase after her and attach himself to their memories. He had to let 'his best girl' go.

He breathed in the hint of rain as realization coalesced somewhere beyond the tangled strings of his heart. Clearing his throat, Steve took a moment and summoned his confidence, he looked steadily into mixtures of temperate green and steel blue merging with the shades of darkness. Her gaze stayed onto him. "All I want is for you to be happy, Natasha, and to follow the right path..." his voice faded as another rumble of thunder echoed in his eardrums. A new storm front was coming—a clash of violent streaks of lightning danced in-between the low-hanging ominous clouds and heavy winds of change.

"I don't know what's going to us happen next," he shamelessly admitted, holding her guarded stare. He needed her, even with them standing at the edge of nowhere, almost falling into a chasm of uncertainty. There was something solid and substantial with her. Just maybe she would be standing next to him, dressed in white with love shining in her eyes. He knew that she couldn't have children, but that didn't stop him from putting his faith into a promise of a miracle.

The serum could change something that is damaged into a pure form of hope. One day, if they survive the next battle, he would give her something they both wanted: a family.

His expression grew neutral and his fingers clenched around her wrist as he added, "...but I do know that in every battle, there is calm against the storm. We can't be afraid. We have to face it and believe that when it's all over, we'll have a time to share a dance with our right partner."

"Steve," she rasped, fighting against the dull familiar ache of her heart's betrayal. Her breath was calm and laved over his slacked and flushed muscles as she ran her fingers along his embossed star. In that moment, despite the whorl of torment in her, everything stilled. "Who is your right partner?" she asked voice halting, with the absence of unsettled guilt. She needed to know.

He didn't say anything. He gave her enough space, and again resumed his tall broad frame, several inches from hers. Stalwart denial rammed against his heart; feeling the bite of his own pain. He narrowed his eyes and breathed out evenly. "If I told you the truth, you would run."

Natasha shook her head, green eyes resettled with blue and the protesting and distrusting voice of the Black Widow slipped deep under her skin. "I'm not running, Steve." She felt the need—forgiveness, devotion and love for him transcended everything from her past. There was no going back. No more monsters. Just angels and demons. One choice. One life. It will be hers. "Trust me."

As a flicker of lightning struck its reflection in depths of his blue eyes, Steve moved closer to her, brushing his masculine nose with hers then claimed the fullness of her lips into a deep and loving kiss, sensuous. The slant of his soft lips ran feverishly along the edges of her own, and then he felt her lips part, welcoming him into her mouth. Unfettered noise emitted from her throat. He kissed her with every surge of the blood rushing in his veins. A wet embrace of heat drove a chill through Natasha's spine as she clasped her arms over his hard shoulders, feeling the power and the weight of him flex against her fingers as he plunged deeper inside and took her breath away.

She was melting against his body, heat colliding with hers, and with one swipe of his hand, he tilted her back into a graceful stance of a soldier's bow and pressed his lips harder, giving her a piece of his heart to use when she fought against the nightmares.

"I trust you," he confessed pulling away to recover a deep breath, his lips shadowing over her skin.

Looking into the tenderness of his blue eyes, she found her new calling, and pressed her hand flatly over his star emblem. "What happens to us now?"

"Now," he pressed his lips tight, collecting himself. "We go back and assemble our team." He stared into her eyes, and half-smiled. "Together."

Natasha mirrored his smile, and despite all the destruction and pain that laid before her, Steve had found her when she had clung on to those desperate ends of the unraveling threads, and he didn't judge nor condemn her for the actions and the chance to feel something pure and real. "Together..."

Instead, he locked her into the embrace of his strong arms and allowed her to rest firmly against him, breathing softly against his neck. He told her to release everything, and she did.

She felt the pulsating heat of his strength coiling through her rigid bones and listened to the thundering percussion of his heart. Even through her dreams of betrayal would crawl out of the shadows and condemn her inside and out; Natasha felt safe in his strong arms. He faintly brushed his warm lips against hers and rocked her back and forth into a steady and trusting pace. She never faltered back, the promise made her strong again. She was new woman with a purpose.

She was standing right where she needed to be: at his side.


End file.
